Dell's Darlin'
by TheSoundOfAWESOME
Summary: Crap title, I know. I just thought the idea of an adorable little thing like Engie being married to an absolute bombshell was just too much fun to ignore. So, yeah. I made...this thing. I'm toying with the idea of some Heavy/Medic fluff in later chapters, because even VALVe keep hinting at it. T, just in case. I highly doubt it'll go up.
1. Chapter 1

_**Yeah…I don't really know why I wrote this. I think because, despite being one of the few characters whose name we actually know, we don't know a lot about his life. He has 11 PhDs, that's…like it. I also thought it would be funny if a sweet little man like Engie had an absolute bombshell for a wife :3 Just me? OK.**_

_**Also, some of the stuff about other characters is a mixture of things that I've found actual evidence of (names, family history, quirky little details you just couldn't make up etc.), things VALVe keep hinting at (Pyro being a girl, Heavy/Medic), and my own little crack indulgences (REDSpy/BLUPyro). **__**DON'T CONFUSE THIS WITH SCOUT/ENGIE! IT'S REALLY, REALLY NOT.**_

_**DISCLAIMER:**__**If I owned Team Fortress 2…wow, you have NO IDEA how happy I'd be.**_

**Chapter One.**

From his very first day on the job, Scout had decided to make an effort to get to know every one of his team mates. He figured, if he was going to be spending his indefinite living with and relying on the same eight men, day in day out, he might as well get first impressions out of the way.

Since then, he'd had some sort of "digging up" on pretty much everyone at least once. He knew:

The Spy was hopelessly in love with the RED Pyro. After first discovering she was a woman, he only saw her as an extremely challenging conquest, a side project to try and pass the endless hours in Teufort. It soon…escalated, shall we say.

He knew the Heavy's family had spent three months in a Siberian Gulag because of his father's counter-revolutionary ideas. Also, that his first name was Ivan.

He knew the Soldier's real name was Jane Doe, all about his feud with the RED Demoman and that his roommate was an ancient dark magician.

He had helped the Medic accept his sexuality, for which he had previously been prosecuted by the Nazis. However, when I say "helped", it's really more "Yelled at the medic to get over his goddamn self because he wasn't the only goddamn fag who ever goddamn lived". Rather loudly. Still, by Scout's standards, he'd done a good thing.

He knew the Demoman's parents had abandoned him as a baby, and it took accidentally killing his adopted parents and losing his left eye to be reunited with them.

He knew the Sniper's dad did not approve one bit of his son's career choice, despite the fact he made a very tidy sum indeed for doing it. Which only confused scout more as to why he still lived in a van. Still, he figured the Aussie outback man had a couple of screws loose, since he yelled his motto, "Professionals have Standards", while throwing his own urine at people.

He figured Pyro was female, since they were all clones of one original person. And he only got those two pieces of information from Spy.

Yes, young Scout was indeed proud to say that he more about everyone than they did about eachother. Still, he couldn't help but feel a small niggle in the back of his mind, telling him he'd missed something. It bothered him more than what sex must feel like.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Yeah, I had to do a facepalm to end all facepalms right after submitting that first chapter, because we know far more about Engie than just his name and nationality, what with his grandfather building the Mann brothers' life-support machines and what have you. ANYWAYS.**_

_**I PROMISE to make this chapter longer this time, because the last one was stupidly short. But I guess it was OK, if you just count it as an intro of sorts.**_

_**DISCLAIMER:**__** I own TF2…as a game.**_

_**CHAPTER TWO**_

"_MISSION BEGINS IN 60 SECONDS!"_

The two teams were readying themselves for some good ol' Capture the Flag. Or intelligence. "Capture the Intelligence" was really what it was, but flag had a much better ring to it. This was the one thing the two teams would probably ever actually agree on, if ever the occasion arose that they would all be sat around a table, discussing the names of different types of battles they had.

The day that happened would be a very strange one indeed.

"_MISSION BEGINS IN 30 SECONDS!"_

Scout was jolted back to reality by the announcement, previously lost in his own thoughts, wondering who it was that he had missed in his little social quest. The Sniper noticed this and smiled to himself in what seemed to be amusement, but with only his mouth to go by, it was hard to tell.

"You alright there, kiddo?"

"Huh? Yeah."

"You look a bit lost to me."

"Oh, right. I…yeah."

"…OK."

Scout wouldn't have minded if his bushman friend had pressed further (in fact, he'd have quite liked somebody to help him), but he made no personal effort to speak up. Sniper was already busying himself loading his rifle anyway. Scout decided to busy himself too, checking out what everybody else was busying themselves with. The Medic was, as ever, charging the Heavy, listening attentively to what he was telling him about something interesting he'd found under Soldier's bed the other day. Soldier himself was boring the Spy with some near-impossible, overly-complex attack strategy involving a new tactic he'd invented, lovingly named "Fovel Shucking". Spy was nodding and saying "Ah, oui! You are indeed savvy of the field of battle" or something along those lines every now and again. Demoman was setting up sticky bombs all around the entrance to the room where their intelligence was kept, and Pyro hovered around the Engineer as he set up one of his ingenius buildings.

Wait.

"_MISSION BEGINS IN 10 SECONDS!"_

It was the ENGINEER! HE was the one who'd been missed! Scout felt so pleased with himself for working it out on his own. From this moment, Engineer - nah, Engie – would be Scout's new best buddy.

"_5…4…3…2…1!"_

After a battle spent mainly trying to bump into Engie as much as possible, Scout realised it wasn't _entirely_ his fault for not noticing the quiet little Texan man earlier. He usually seemed content to just listen to and observe what was going on around him, and probably kept the vast majority of his thoughts to himself. When he did speak, he was incredibly mild-mannered and soft-spoken, almost to the point where it was irritating. He may be different during ceasefire, though. Scout didn't have to wait long to find out.

"_VICTORY!"_

The BLU team were back at base, passing around drinks, smokes and other recreational indulgences they generally saved celebrations like this one. The Soldier, a little tipsy already, just managed to scramble onto a table at the far end of the room and started some inspirational speech, punctuated with belches and some incoherent babbling that grew more and more frequent as the minutes ticked by, about how he BELIEVED in EVERY SINGLE ONE of them, and how they were TRULY THE FINEST TEAM OF MERCENEARIES he'd EVER HAD THE PLEASURE OF and then he toppled over onto the unconscious Demoman.

Scout spotted Sniper and made his way over to him. It was only fair, after all, that he clued him in on what had been bothering him earlier. Is what he told himself.

Really, he just wanted to tell somebody how very clever he was.

It was now very late. Sniper had made his way back to the van, sat down and started cleaning his gun, all the time with Scout hovering around him like a little puppy dog, yapping on animatedly about his big new discovery. Unfortunately, he didn't seem to be understanding the constant signals for him to leave.

"And, man, I dun even blame myself for missin' 'em! He just dun pop out like no one else, ya know? S'like he's invisible or summen…"

"Eh heh."

"But it's OK. It's fine. 'Cuz now I got summen ta do around here again! My first day here, I swore den an I swear now, Imma turn every single one a' dese guys into an open book!"

"Eh heh."

"Ya gotta get ta know da dudes dat you're gonna be relyin' on an' leadin' intah battle an' stuff. Dat's what bein' a great leader's all about!"

"Eh heh."

"AM I RIGHT?"

"Eh heh."

"Man, are you even listenin'?"

"Eh heh."

He received a harsh slap across the back of the head. Sniper grumbled and re-adjusted his hat.

"OK, OK! Yeah yeah, you're a great leader, opening books and that, yaddayaddayadda."

Scout dismissed this little interruption and carried on.

"And we can, like, I dunno…teach eachother stuff!

"_Teach _eachother stuff..?"

"Yeah, like he can teach me ta make cool shit like dem massive gun things an' gimme a cool robot hand like he's got!"

"OK, I get that but…what could 'e possibly learn from you?"

Scout smirked. "Wut could he learn frum me? I can teach him to be an ol' school Casanova, dat's what he could learn frum me! All ya need is a little guidance from the master," He gestured towards himself, "An da laydeys'll be flockin' to 'em!"

For a few seconds, Sniper just looked at him. He then removed his sunglasses and burst out laughing, a long hearty laugh that left him breathless and short for words.

"You mean, YOU! I, Jesus, just gimme a sec," He banged his fist on the table, not noticing an ammo box that fell over the edge. Looking back up at Scout, he again attempted to point out how utterly ridiculous that idea was. " Look, furst thing furst, I'm not even sure a guy like Engie _wants_ 'elp with the ladies.' I mean, what exactly d'ya think 'e does all day apart from building stuff?"

"What, ya think he's a fag?"

"Nah, what I think is 'e just don't…I dunno. It's 'ard to put into words. I just think he'd perfectly 'appy with his _machines_. I don't think he _needs_ people."

"Wait, wut?! Dat's stoopid! You're stoopid! I ain't NEVA hurd ah NO-ONE like dat. I betcha…uh…$20 an a whole keg of beer by the time we all go on leave ah'll have taught dat guy the tricks ah da trade an' he'll come back aftuh wid a ladyfriend dat'll make ya eyes pop outta ya croc-lovin' skull! All cuzzah me!"

"Right. Make it $30 an' I'll bet the 'ole time you're teachin' 'im these tricks o' yours, 'e's makin' doe-eyes at one of 'is own inventions or some other crazy thing like that he'd do."

"It's on, man!"

"Oh, it's on!"

"It's on like Donkey – Kong!"

They spat on their palms, shook hands and finally, FINALLY, Scout left.

Thank god.

_**OK, so here's a little announcement for you guys: I'm off to the states for about 2 weeks. I'm pretty excited about it, but I REALLY want to avoid changing the domain on my laptop, what with the limited number of times you can do that.**_

_**Consequently, I probably won't be uploading. HOWEVER, since Word doesn't NEED any internet, I will definitely be writing, and I'll upload as soon as I get back! Promise! **_


	3. Chapter 3

_**OK, so I'm in Woodstock, and it's awesome! I wasn't able to do any writing in NY because we were constantly doing things and seeing the sights and whatnot. But it's OK, because I was there for 3 nights and I'm here for 6 nights and we're much more relaxed here, so during these 6 nights I'll be writing all I can **_

_**DISCLAIMER: **__**I've run out of creative ways to tell you about how I don't own TF2.**_

**CHAPTER 3**

Names were not compulsory in Teufort.

That didn't mean you didn't have to have a name, it just meant nobody had to know it if you didn't want them to. It was only a handful of the mercs who bothered to make their name known, and even fewer who gave the whole thing.

Soldier claimed his name was Jane Doe, which was hilarious since his mother had apparently wanted him to be girl. Demoman was Tavish DeGroot, which was possibly the most stereotypical Scottish name you could hear. Sniper's second name was Mundy, he _said_. And apparently Spy had found some CCTV or something of Heavy playing poker with three friends of his, one of whom called him Ivan. Hell, even outright refused to give the mercs any further details on who she was and why she kept popping up every now and again.

In short, it was rare in teufort for a merc to willingly give his name, and even more so for it to be his full name, or even his real one. However, Scout was more than certain Engie would be the kind of guy who'd let you in quite happily. And he was.

"So, uh…ya gotta name, overalls?"

Overalls looked up from his workbench, and whatever mad contraption he was in the middle of working on. He brought a gloved hand to his chin and stroked it over-dramatically.

"Now, why'd you wanna know somethin' like that?"

"Some ah dese guys got wun, others don't. Dat's how it is. I wus jus wondering if a technologically learn-ed gentleman like yaself was in dat first group, is all. Nuttin' wrong bare wid bein' curious, right goggles?"

Engineer smiled and offered his bare hand. "Dell." He said, "Conagher."

Scout also smiled, and shook it. "Scout," he said.

"Ah see how it is. C'mon, boy, take a seat. Gotta rest them springy bones before King o' the Hill later."

"We're doin' king of the Hill?! Aw man, always get my ass handed to me. Once we got the point, there's nuthin' for me to do 'cept stay outta trouble."

This made Dell laugh for some reason. "And if there's one thing you of all people can't keep yerself out of, it's trouble!" Oh. OK. Fair enough, he'd walked right into that one.

"Nah, but ah'm sure you can make yerself useful. I mean, you ain't got nothin' to do once the point's been captured, but for me it's like ah'll be needin' three o' me from that point onward. Ah think it's pretty obvious what you can do to "stay outta trouble", as it were."

"Ya mean, like, I get ta make sentry guns an' teleporters an' shit?! Awesome!"

"It really ain't that hard once you get into it. Hey! Ah'll take you on as mah apprentice-type-thing. Then ya'll have somethin' to do 'round here." Bits of the conversation were getting fairly familiar, but Scout couldn't care less.

"Awsome! Cud ya teach me summin' now?"

"Ah don't see why not."

"…An' den he said he'll take me on as his apprentice type thing an' then he showed me how ta fire up dis thing called a dispenser so it don't dry up an' stop makin' health smoke or whatever it is. Can't help thinkin' it couldn't hurt ta have more dispensers around…"

"Wait, wait, wait. So you're telling me that you set out to teach 'im 'ow ta land a ladyfriend and now 'e's the one giving you tech lessons?" Sniper erupted laughing at Scout's expense for the second time in as many days.

"Yeah, but don'tcha get it? I already toldja, Imma teach him stuff an' he'sa teach me stuff! Dat's how it's gonna work. So don't get all excited about winnin', cuz da bet ain't ovah yet!"

"That's not why I'm gonna win. I'm gonna win because you still can't teach _anyone anything_ about getting a girl!"

"An I s'pose YOU can do bettuh?"

"OK, whatever. You win on that one. To be frank, I don't expect ANY of us really understand women, 'cept spy. An' ya know what 'e's like."

"What's it like, sharin' a room wid a rapist?"

"'E ain't no rapist. Jus coz 'e looks like RED Spy don't mean 'e also shagged your mother. Remember that, yeah?" Sniper was painfully blunt about such a sensitive subject.

"Sorry, man."

"S'alright, 'slong as you don't go an' let summin' slip that you shouldn't 'ave, s'pecially to 'is face."

There was a silence, bordering on awkward, as neither of the two had any clue what to talk about next. Then Sniper spoke.

"So, uh…does 'e talk to 'is machines when 'e thinks no-one's looking?"

"Course he does, man, he's a complete weirdo!"

If you were standing outside the BLU base, you could just about here two voices roaring with laughter and saying certain unintelligible things about a certain indistinguishable someone.

_**I hope that wasn't too short. I mean, it's really hard to judge in Word. Seriously, the first chapter looked really long in this thing, and we all know how that turned out. So…yeah. I don't trust Word.**_

_**Damn you, Word.**_

_**And for those of you who might be confused about the whole "Heavy playing poker with mates" thing, there's like a little Steam/VALVe spin –off game called Poker Night at the Inventory, with him in it, and at one point a dude called Strong Bad calls him Ivan. So…yeah, I didn't make that up.**_


	4. Chapter 4

_**Hey, Broskies! Just clearing up something I wrote last chapter about how Sniper shares a room with Spy, and I basically forgot to mention that, I imagine, in Teufort the 3 different types of class (**__**Offense **__**– Scout, Solly, Pyro] **__**Defense **__**– Demo, Heavy, Engie] **__**Support**__** – Sniper, Medic, Spy) all share a room, or a set of 3 rooms, 1 each.**_

_**Or something.**_

_**But then I also remembered that I mentioned Sniper's trailer in the 2**__**nd**__** chapter. So…just imagine he has that **__**and**__** the room in Teufort, OK?**_

_**DISCLAIMER:**__** I DO NOT OWN TF2. Can I have my cookie now?**_

**CHAPTER 4**

Time passed, and soon the mercs came close to going on leave. It was only about two and a half weeks, and everyone was looking forward to it. Especially Dell, for some reason. Since Scout had been spending a lot more time at the cluttered workshop than usual, he'd noticed this and was more than a little curious.

"hey man, wut's got ya so happy? Ya seein' ya folks?"

"You betcha! Some o' them I haven't seen in…let's see, five, six years? No…"

Scout had noticed on the very first day a corkboard with photos pinned all over it. He'd been hoping he wouldn't have to ask about it directly, that'd be weird. He'd planned on casually pulling it into a conversation, and he figured now would be the perfect time to do just that. "This them?"

"Yep. That's almost all of 'em. 'Cept ah got a niece, just born this year! I haven't got one of her yet. That's mainly why ah'm rarin' to go – Ah can't wait to meet her!"

"Wow, ya family's HUGE! Like, mine's usually massive compared to udda people's, but…Jesus!"

"Heh, yeah." Dell went back to welding something. Scout nearly did too, if he hadn't noticed one picture in particular. It was of Dell, a lot younger, about 25, sitting with this girl who looked about the same age.

And my, what a girl she was.

She has this giant mane of chocolaty brown hair that cascaded all the way down her back, and eyes that matched. Not that they were cascading down her back, that would be beyond strange and a little disturbing. They were just brown. She wasn't wearing any makeup (not that Scout was an expert on that, quite often girls who appeared bare faced were just very clever and knew a lot of tricks, so he stayed sceptical on that). Since she was sitting down, he couldn't really make out what her body looked like, but it helped that she was clad in a polka-dot one piece swimsuit. Oh, yes, it helped a lot.

Then he noticed that Dell wasn't wearing goggles or a hardhat for once, which was…interesting.

Scout yanked the photo off the wall and went over to the man in question.

"I didn't know you had a sister!"

"Now, I got quite a few sisters, son. Which one d'you mean?"

"This one, look."

For the millionth time, someone older than him started laughing for reasons Scout couldn't possibly comprehend.

"Boy, that ain't my sister!"

"Well, SORREEEEY, that I can't tell the difference between a sister an' a cousin. It ain't DAT funny."

For some reason this made the Engineer chuckle even more.

"My gosh! I got many, many cousins, kid. But she ain't one of 'em."

"She isn't?!" Scout looked at the photo, at Dell, and back again. "Then who is she?"

"Well, that lady there'd be mah missus. And that there photo'd be from our honeymoon, in San Diego." A small smile took to his face as he looked fondly at the picture.

Scout just about died on the spot.

_**Sorry for a retardedly short chapter. I just feel like if I add anything onto the beginning it'll ruin it, and if I add anything onto the end it'll ruin it.**_

_**But the next chapter will be MUCH longer to make up, don't you worry your cotton socks **_


	5. Chapter 5

_**Hi, everybody! (Hi, Dr. Nick!) I'm going to try and make this chapter extra-long to make up for the crappy little short one I did last time, which was SERIOUSLY not good. OK? OK. I'm also sidetracking from the main plot, because I remembered I promised Medic/Heavy and so far there has been none.**_

_**DISCLAIMER:**__** The closest I can get to actually owning TF2 is maybe designing something in the Steam workshop, and I'm too lazy to even do that.**_

_**CHAPTER 5**_

From the start of the job,the Medic had taken a shine to the idea of being able to cut away at people, day in day out, trying to satisfy his macabre curiosity of the human body, how it worked, what it could achieve, how it could be improved, or restored to health more efficiently. Especially after being told about the respawn system, which effectively granted him endless test subjects. Since then he had answered quite a few of these questions, a few still lingering in the air, waiting to be realised.

As the weeks turned into months, he began to form strong bonds with his patients and teammates. Afterall, it's difficult to have handled somebody's internal organs while their life depended on you doing your job right, and not become friends with them after seeing them every single day afterwards as well. It was this sense of camaraderie that kept the medic going. If it weren't for these 8 men being these 8 men, he thought he might go mad from boredom at the mundanity of repeated events. But taking into account the fact they were all (including himself) more than a little insane (he figured this was why they'd been picked for the job) the various ailments they arrived at his surgery with became more and more interesting and challenging.

There was one merc in particular the Medic had grown particularly fond of. At first he had dismissed his feelings as the fumes from his medigun getting to him – It was useful for things other than healing when it all got too much – But there soon came a time when he had to look himself in the mirror and see staring back at him what had been engrained into his soul by the Nazis as wrong and unnatural. He had to live with the idea that his selfish tendancies would land the Human race near extinction. In the past he had repressed himself as best he could and avoided contact with both men who might be potential lovers, and women who thought as much about themselves. Even after their reign of terror was over, he claimed asexuality to avoid talk. Because in post-Nazi Germany, there was _a lot_ of talk. About _everything_.H e had already told himself before setting off to Teufort that, should anyone ask (and only if he was forced to tell), that would be his answer. But it had taken a heated but necessary discussion with Scout and then multiple run-ins with one of the mercenaries in particular for him to stop denying to himself what he was.

He was gay. For this man. And it was horrible and amazing and frightening and sickly and wonderful all at the same time. Even though the only one who he felt he could really talk to was Archimedes (He may be a bird, but he was the Medic's closest friend), he daren't even tell the little dove about his unfortunate amour. About the things he wanted this man to do with him, and _to_ him. Even the innocent little Archimedes, who couldn't possibly understand German, might recoil in disgust. But…He could barely even say that name to himself without this stupid grin coming over his face and his cheeks flushing red. This man just…made him feel like everything was OK. Like he could feel safe in his own skin.

In fact, it was often times when he was deep in thought like this that said merc always found a moment to sneak up on him.

"DOKTOR! There you are!" The Heavy Weapons Guy loomed over the Medic, making him feel as if he were a small boy again.

"OH! Heavy, you musn't scare me like zat!" His face turned crimson.

"Why is your face red? Are you hot, Doktor?"

"Yes, UH, I mean, nien! I mean No!" He smoothed down his hair and closed his eyes."I am…a little stvessed. I've misplaced my boner – BONESAW. Bonesaw."

"You are looking…for your bonesaw?" The Heavy arched an eyebrow. "It is in your hand, Doktor."

"AH! Yes, uhm, vell, now zaht I have found it, I have…um…zhings zaht need doing. Yes."

"I can help you?"

"If you vant to help do me – ME DO zehm…ah...you are absolutely velcome, but…um…"

Jane appeared out of nowhere, and the Medic thanked whatever was up there.

"HEY MUSCLES! WE NEED MANPOWER DOWN AT THE BAY, WE HAVE A FUCKTONNE OF CRATES THAT NEED –" Tavish shushed him with a gesture.

"A shitload."

"WHAT?!"

"We got a wee shitload of crates down there, mate. it's far too small to be a fucktonne. A fucktonne is like…" He waved his arms around in a bid to express the sheer volume of a fucktonne in comparison to a shitload, but ended up knocking himself off balance and fell onto Jane.

"YOU GET OFF ME, YOU ENGLISHMAN IN A DRESS! LEANING ON YOUR COMRADES IS A SIGN OF WEAKNESS!"

While the two were bickering, the Heavy had not noticed the Medic slip quietly away.

"Medic. He did not say Goodnight. His work cannot have been SO urgent…"

"WHAT WAS THAT, MUSCLES?"

"Nothing. I will help move little crates."

The Medic watched from around the next corner as the enormous pile of Russian meat lumber off in the opposite direction. He liked to think of him as _his _enormous pile of Russian meat. He opened his mouth, knowing what he whispered next would bring that stupid grin to his already tomato-coloured face.

"_Goodnight…Ivan."_

_**D'AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAW.**_

_**Dammit, that was supposed to be really long and it was about the same as usual.**_

_**So, here you go. Some Heavy/Medic fluff, because I felt like taking a break from the main plot but I was too lazy to start a separate fic. So yeah, you got your wish. I'm not writing any smut, though, so…you might be disappointed about that.**_


	6. Chapter 6

_**Herro. So, this chapter is basically an excuse for me to add words. If you want to see Engie be a prick and Scare the cream corn out of Scout, read on. If not, because this makes no difference to the plot whatsoever, I can hardly blame you.**_

_**DISCLAIMER:**__** In Canon TF2, I'm pretty sure the stuff happening in this fic would NEVER. HAPPEN. And if it did actually happen it would seriously ruin it.**_

**CHAPTER 6.**

"Oi, there you are, mate! Where ya been, I thought you said to wait at the Camper?"

"Dude, I said to wait outside da _workshop_."

"I 'eard Camper."

"HOW could you have heard – OK, I'm not getting' inta dis. I'm callin' awf da bet."

"What?! Why? You'd _never_ do something like that, even with no chance of winning," Mr. Mundy eyed Mr. Chatterbox suspiciously. "There's gotta be some kinda catch."

"Well, sorta. Look, _I _bet I could tech 'em ta win some hearts by da time leave swung round, right?"

"…Right."

"An' _you_ bet he had a thing fuh machines, right?"

"Heh heh, right."

"Well check DIS owt."

Scout promptly thrust an old photograph at Mundy. He studied it for a matter of seconds. Scout couldn't help but notice which part of the picture he was looking at, based on his expression.

"Wow,'ho'd 'ave though a guy like 'im could 'ave come from such a rosy gene-pool!"

"Dude, I thought dey had ta be related or summin', too. I know it seems crazy, man, but…dat's his _wife_!"

"NO!"

"YEAH!"

"I don't believe ya!"

"Well, ya can aks 'em, an den ya gunna believe me!"

"OK, I will. But only cuz methinks you just want out of the bet." He tapped his nose.

"Sure man, _sure_. I know ya, an' ya gonna aks if she got a sister!"

_(Back in the workshop…)_

"So…uh…how long you two bin goin' faw?"

"Who, me 'n Ida?"

"Ida?"

"Full name's Ida Faye Scott Conagher."

"PPFFFFFF! Geez, man, what kind of a name is THAT?!"

"It's a Southern kind of a name, is what!" Scout dodged a screwdriver flying at his head.

"Yeah, sure. But anyways, how long?"

"We'll be 17 years in February. My, how time flies…"

"Woah, man, that's like…1 year less than like my whole life!"

"Heh, you got a whole world ahead ah you, boy. An' yah don't even know it."

Scout discretely put the old photograph back on the cork-board. "Man, I'm lookin' fawwards ta landin' a sweet piece ah booty like dat!" He instantly regretted saying that. If Dell wasn't wearing his goggles, he figured he might've burned holes in his scull with the look he gave him.

"That's mah _wife_ yer talkin' 'bout, boy. Ah'd keep that loose tongue ah yours in line if ah were you."

"Uh…sorry, dude."

" 'Pology accepted."

There was a short silence as Scout went back to tying his shoelaces and Dell went back to adding some new attachment onto his robot hand. Scout cursed as he failed yet again to tie an bow (Something he'd promised his Ma he'd learn to do before he saw her next), and looked up as the mechanical appendage caught his eye. He remembered something he'd been meaning to ask for quite some time, now.

"Hey, um…this might be a bad time to ask, but…you know your cool robot-hand?"

"This li'l beauty?" He spun it a few times. "I call her the Gunslinger."

"Yeah, sure thing, but…Could ya make me one?"

To Scout's disbelief, Dell actually looked as if he was considering it. It felt like an eternity before he spoke.

"Gimme yuh hand, boy."

Scout couldn't belive this was really happening. He Looked to Dell, to the Gunslinger, to his own hand, back to the Gunslinger, back to his own hand, and then back to Dell. He'd gone deadly serious. Scout slowly, ever so slowly, reached out a shaking left hand. Dell gripped it firmly by the wrist, tightening his Gunslinger around it like a vice, ebbing the boy's bloodflow. Pretty soon, Scout's hand went limp and couldn't feel a thing.

"There'll still be alotta blood. You might wanna look away, son."

Seconds lasted minutes. Scout could feel his heartbeat racing and blood drained from his face. He felt a little sick. But he wouldn't give the word to stop. He couldn't. If Dell saw him chicken out now, he might never give him this chance again, and just think how awesome it would be to have a goddamn _robot hand_! He'd give it a cool name of its own, like Strangler, or Mechappendage, no, that was waaay too long. He needed something snappy, like –

Scout snapped back to reality as he saw Dell reach inside his toolbox and bring out a heavy meat cleaver. It glinted in the sunlight as he turned it slowly, presumably inspecting it for any nicks in the blade edge, or something. Apparently satisfied, he held it against Scout's arm to get a sense of where he'd hit it.

Suddenly, Scout wasn't so sure about this. Yeah, it looked cool, but he _liked_ his left hand. He was left handed, afterall. He'd have to learn to go righty during alone time…

Dell drew back the cleaver, goggles locked on Scout's arm.

And what if something went wrong? What if the blood was flowing too heavily and he died? The world wouldn't last without him! What if it _really hurt_? What if Dell couldn't attach the Robo-hand and he was just left with a stump? All these thoughts were whizzing through his head and he felt a little faint.

He didn't want this. It was too much. He'd give anything to punch his past self in the face for even _thinking_ about suggesting this. His mind screames at him_: "AH COURSE GOGGLES IS GONNA ACTUALLY GO THROUGH WID IT, HE'S A GODDAMN PSYCHO LIKE DAT. DAT'S WHY EMPLOYED 'EM! DAT'S WHY DOSE BASTARDS EMPLOYED ANY OF US!"_

Too late.

Dell brought the cleaver down in one swift movement. Scout instinctively closed his eyes and winced, preparing himself for that inevitable, sickening _crunch_ –

It wasn't coming.

"_So, it's true what dey say, den. Time really does slow down when ya scared."_

"_Wow, it slows right down."_

"_So slow it's suspicious."_

Scout opened his eyes.

The cleaver was just hovering over his wrist. He looked at Dell. He was looking right back at him, laughing silently to himself. Scout tried to find his voice. It took more than a few attempts.

"Wh…What the HELL, man?! Just…I dunno, do it already!"

"Ah was never going to, son!"

"…What?"

"Y'heard. Think fur a second, will ya? Use that brain yer mama gave you. Ah know exactly what you been thinking these past few minutes. Ah've _been_ there! Y'really think I was gonna lop off yer hand an' slap on a mechanical one, just like that? You got another thing comin'."

"Then…Why'dja build it up like that? Ya coulda jus said 'No'! Dat too much t ask?!"

"You don't geddit. A simple 'No' would never get yuh off mah back. You'd keep on askin' and askin' and ah'd never hear the end of it! This way, you know what it's gon' be like. This way, ah could scare you outta the idea before you got irritatin'. Cuz, no offense, but you really _do_ get irritatin'."

"But…if you wur as scared as me dat udda time…den how come you dun it on yaself?"

"Ah've come to learn that test subjects are a lot more trouble'n they're worth."

"…OK. Oh, by da way…what'd Ida think uv it? Da Gunsliner, I mean."

"Ah gotta say, it's more'n a li'l strange, you askin' all these questions 'bout mah wife, boy."

"Sorry, dude, I just…I'm still adjustin' to da fact you got yaself a whole 'nudda life away frum dis."

Dell just gave him another one of his looks.

_**It's not that late, I can probables knock out another one of these tonight. Like I said, nothing really happened. I guess if this was a one-shot it wouldn't make any difference.**_


End file.
